


Crazy. (Brendon Urie One-Shot)

by UnicornCooky



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Crazy, F/M, Issues, M/M, Mental Instability, Other, Romance, cray cray, help me, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8331631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicornCooky/pseuds/UnicornCooky





	

Brendon smiled a little as he glanced over at you, the many tables between you two making it seem like he was looking at someone else. Though, his best friend could still tell. He could always tell.

"B-Den!" Spencer exclaimed, snapping the brunette out of his thoughts, "The hell man?" Brendon blushed a little, and shrugged. "I dunno...I was distracted..." He muttered as he pulled his knees to his chest. It was hard to do because of the fact that there weren't backs on the benches of lunch tables, but he managed.

"Yeah, /distracted/." Spencer grumbled. He looked back in the direction that Brendon was still looking at, just to make sure he was thinking the right thing. "Distracted by Y/N." He snickered. Brendon pouted. "Shut up." Whispered Brendon, as he picked at the most-likely-diseased pizza on the tray in front of him.

"You really are stupid, B. Y/N's fucking crazy. Remember last month? The whole hospital deal?" Spencer stressed, jabbing his fork in Brendon's direction, who was looking around dreamily at all the other students in the cafeteria. 

"That doesn't matter to me," He whispered, a small smile on his face, "I'm sure Y/N's still a really great person..." Spencer rolled his eyes at the lovesick boy, and grumbled a quiet /'whatever'/. He took notice in the fact that his friend wasn't really eating, and frowned. "B-Den, why aren't you eating?" He sighed, not wanting to go through the same thing he did last time Brendon wanted to impress a crush.

Brendon seemed to pause for a bit before he spoke.

"I don't wanna get herpes."

\- 

The next day at school, he decided he'd talk to you. Spencer tried to talk him out of it, but he just couldn't be stopped. 

He spotted you standing outside of the nurse's office, looking around for nothing in particular.

"Hi." 

Brendon's voice startled you, considering you hadn't seen him coming, and you jumped almost overt-dramatically. You blushed when you saw it was only a person, but still didn't calm down in the slightest. "/Hi/." You responded. You stayed on your feet, just in case said person was here to cause you pain.

The brunette smiled slightly, and stuck out a hand, which you flinched away from. "I'm Brendon." He greeted, still not drawing his hand back. You reluctantly shook it, taken aback to find that his skin was actually really soft, and it felt nice. "Y/N." You whispered.

"I uh- I know we only met just now, but I've been watching you for a while now-" He grunted at his mistake, searching for the right words to say, as your eyes widened at the ones that had already come out. "N-Not /watching/, definitely not watching, that came out wrong- I've just, I've been seeing you around, and you seemed cool, and I was wondering if you maybe sorta wanted to hang later? You don't have to, but just you're cool, I like to think I'm pretty chill, I feel like we'd get along-"

Brendon cut himself off before he could make the situation worse. He'd taken notice of your confused and still-very-startled face. You thought it over for a bit, you were trying to comprehend what had just come out of his mouth. You then remembered it was Friday, so there wouldn't really be any hassle with /'hanging'/.

"U-Uhmm... Sure..."

And so that day after school, Brendon drove you to your house in his old-as-grass car, for you to pick up some clothes. Your mom was startled to see you home so early.

"Sweetheart, what're you doing home? I was suppose to leave to pick you up five minutes from now." She furrowed her brows at you as you walked through the door. "Uh-Uhm...Th-This guy, B-Brendon, drove me h-home. Gotta get clothes, g-gonna stay w-with him t-tonight..." You struggled to say while you fidgeted quite nervously.

Your mother looked concerned, and she shook her head. "I dunno sweetie, your therapist said that you need people to watch you for a while, and I just don't-" "B-But mother, d-didn't you want m-me to m-make friends? Every-Everyone thinks I'm c-crazy, he s-seems t-t-to like m-me!" You intervened her little lecture, just so you could try and convince her.

"I'm sorry dear, you're just gonna have to call this little friend and tell him you're not going. I still don't fully approve of you staying anywhere overnight without me."

You groaned inwardly, and stomped up the stairs, frantically throwing a few suits of clothes into the backpack you still carried, without saying another word to your mother. Then, before you even thought about telling her, you ran over to the window and jumped out. You obviously stuck the landing with only a minimal amount of trouble - you'd done this many times before when you wanted to get away from her.

Then, you approached the still-running, beaten-down car, where Brendon still waited patiently.

As you hopped in, you immediately uttered a few apologies.

"I'm s-sorry, B-B-Bren-B-Bren-" Brendon smiled and placed his hand on your leg, cutting off your stuttering fit. "Its alright man, we're headed to my house now, okay?"

"Okay."

-

You laughed hysterically as Brendon continued on with his story.

"And so then the lawnmower literally fucking exploded! Ah, Ginger was so pissed at them that day! It was great!" Brendon exclaimed. He'd have gotten Spencer to tell the story, after all it was he and Ryan who actually carried out the actions Brendon had explained, but he seemed to not be sitting with Brendon at the lunch table lately. He always seemed to have a new friend to sit with.

"D-Did th-they g-g-get a lash-sh-shing?" You asked, eyes going wide after you realized how upset Spencer's mom was. "Hell no!" Brendon half-shouted, "That's kinda illegal, yknow?"

"/O-Oh/," you said, frowning slightly. Brendon must not have noticed.

-

"I'm gonna fix you." Brendon muttered.

You looked back at him confusedly, abandoning the starry sky for those big, starry eyes of his own. "W-What d-did you s-say?" You queried, picking at the plush green grass ground underneath you two.

"Nothing!" Assured Brendon. You nodded and looked back at the sky.

He knew that it wasn't possible, he knew that he couldn't just expect someone to get better from his company, he knew he could potentially destroy you, or vise versa. That didn't stop him though, because he could at least try.

"/One day/, I promise."

-

You stared in awe at the taller boy, who was currently leaned against the brick wall of the Smoothie King he worked at, lighting a cigarette.

You watched the smoke blow out of his mouth, the thick, gray air looking like foam as it passed through his pink lips. That wasn't what you were interested in, though.

Brendon must've caught you staring, because he offered the carton to you.

"Want one?" He asked, giving it a little shake and causing the contents to bounce around a bit. You reluctantly nodded, and took the little paper carton out of his grip.

Brendon knew he shouldn't give you cigarettes; after all you could choke and die, not to mention your mom would be even more pissed at him than she already was. He just couldn't distract himself from the joyous look on your face when you opened the carton, and pulled out the lighter.

He watched in confusion as you closed the carton and handed it back to him, before bringing the small Bic lighter to your face and attempting to flick little gear the same way he had done not even three minutes ago. It didn't work, so you kept trying, with Brendon still watching in utter amusement.

When you finally got the flame to ignite, you looked up at your brunette friend with a grin, then back at the tiny fire you held in your hand. 

"I like fire..." You whispered, running your finger back and forth into the small flame, "A-All this t-time they s-said I could-d-n't have f-fire..."

You brought your face impossibly closer to the small lighter, somehow not getting burnt. "I-It's so p-p-pre-/pretty/, B-Bren..."

He knew this wasn't a good idea either, but then he thought about it – you probably weren't gonna set anything on fire. After all, you'd only said it was pretty. Maybe you just wanted to look at it, and maybe touch it a little bit just so you could know not to touch it again.

"You can have it, Y/N. I can always get another one." Said Brendon, before taking another drag off his cigarette. You let out a squeal of happiness, before releasing the tiny pedal and letting the flame go out so that you could stuff it in the pocket of your jumper.

-

"B-B-Bren-n-n-don?"

He could tell you were scared, you stuttered already of course, but this was ten times worse.

"Y/N? What's wrong?"

He could hear your heavy breathing and the flick of the ligher he'd given you on the other line.

"M-My mother, sh-sh-she l-left me a-al-l-l-one i-in the h-house..."

He could hear how your breathing picked up even more, could sense the nerves and fear through the cell phone.

"Are you scared?"

There weren't really any words from you after that, just a small whimper of confirmation as you physically shook.

"I'll be right there, sweetheart, don't move."

He heard you make the same noise again, himself not hanging up the phone on the way to his car or even on the way to your house.

"I'll be right there."

-

"I-It's so p-p-pretty!" You exclaimed, throwing your hands up and walking closer to the large bundle of flames in front of you. Brendon struggled to hold you back, using all his strength to pull you away from the orange light.

"C'mon Y/N, we gotta go, please, we gotta go..." He warned, tugging you back as far as he could. "B-But its so p-pretty! I wanna be pretty t-too, B-B-Brend-don!" You half-shouted as you tried to get out of his iron grip. "Y/N.../Please/..."

He thought he could fix you.

-

Brendon cried for weeks straight. He cried the day of your funeral, seeing you all dressed up in your favorit colors in that coffin. He cried when he tossed the small purple Bic lighter that he'd given you, empty of any fluids and now charred black, into the sleek black coffin that you lay in.

Many people did the same.

Your mother – a little teddy bear you'd apparently had since you were born.

Spencer was there too – he tossed in an apology note that he'd written and had Brendon read before he did so. He apologized for not accepting you, for not giving you a chance.

Your father took off work to attend the funeral – he left you with a little Swiss Army knife he'd planned on giving you when you were "over" whatever it was that was messing you up. 

There weren't many people there that day; as mentioned before, Brendon, Spencer, and your parents, plus your therapist and a couple relatives that lived close. As the pastor of your local church gave his last goodbyes, as they lowered you down into that dirty hole in the ground, Brendon's tears never stopped. He was so disappointed in himself.

/He thought he could fix you./


End file.
